


there but for the grace of god

by TheResurrectionist



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Batfamily (DCU), Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Hal Jordan needs a nap, House Party, Implied Sexual Content, Justice League (DCU) as Family, Team Bonding, The Big Three - Freeform, honestly so much more i don't know how to describe it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:00:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheResurrectionist/pseuds/TheResurrectionist
Summary: From a tumblr prompt.AKA, "A Justice League fic where everyone argues about who's the mostbeautiful and intimidatingsexy from the Big Three and everyone has valid points."
Comments: 46
Kudos: 995





	there but for the grace of god

**Author's Note:**

> written in one sitting, not edited. sorry y'all :( hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to audreycritter for letting me brainstorm. sorry i butchered it ;)

Hal breathed out a sigh of relief as his boots touched down on his apartment floor, letting the construct dissolve. 

He flexed his hand, grimacing at the heaviness of his ring. Hours of battle meant every bone in his body ached; what wasn’t outright fractured was bruised to high and holy hell. He wanted nothing more than to pop a few Advil, down something sugary, and pass out in his shower with whatever remaining dignity he had left. 

He let the Green Lantern suit dissolve like the construct, rolling his shoulders. Clad in only boxers, he padded to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door. 

A low buzzing against his thigh cut into his orange crush mission. He threw the phone on the counter, slamming the “speaker” button. 

“This better be important,” he said, reaching for the orange crush. “I’m about to pass out.” 

“Hal!” He could practically feel Oliver’s post-battle adrenaline high radiating down the phone line. “Hal, my dear boy!”

“ _What_.” 

“We’re in your foyer!” 

Hal pulled back the kitchen blinds, squinting at the front entrance. 

“Who’s ‘we’?” 

“Me and Dinah.” 

Hal opened his can.

“...and?” 

“And we brought a keg! Buzz us up!” 

No one said no to Oliver Queen. Hal sighed, ending the call. He set the orange crush on a shelf, jabbing at the door buzzer. 

He could hear Oliver’s _whoop_ from two floors away. By the time he’d made it to the door, Dinah was already pushing through, a keg wrapped securely in her arms. 

“Hey, Hal,” she said, kissing his cheek like it wasn’t still covered in post-battle soot. “Okay if I set this somewhere?” 

Oliver burst in behind her, slapping Hal on the arm. “How’s it hanging, man?” 

“What’s the keg for?” Hal pressed, looking around his apartment nervously. “This isn’t your mansion. I have a damage deposit I want back.” 

Oliver had the nerve to look proud. “I’ll replace anything we break.” 

“That wasn’t an answer—“

Dinah set the keg gingerly on the kitchen island, brushing off her leggings. She was still wearing her gloves. “Ollie thought we could all hang, maybe decompress a little. Is that alright?” 

Hal did not trust that smile. It was too genuine. Like she’d practiced it. 

“Who’d you invite?” He turned, backing Oliver into the island. “ _Oliver.”_

“Jesus,” Oliver said, cracking a dopey smile. “You’re no fun. It’s just a few JL friends, okay? We all need to relax a bit, after that clusterfuck of a day.” 

“I was going to _bed,”_ Hal said, indignant. “I haven’t slept in 48 hours. I got covered in alien gunk like, twice. Someone threw me into a crater and then _jumped on top of me.”_

Oliver was nodding along. He patted Hal’s shoulder sympathetically. 

“No one’s saying that didn’t happen, Bud. _And,_ consider the possibility that you deserve a little R&R, emphasis on the _relax_?” 

Hal shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

Across the room, Dinah shrugged. “He already texted the group chat,” she said, sitting in the lone armchair. “Barry’s apartment wasn’t big enough.” 

“Barry’s coming?” Hal asked, defeated.

* * *

“Hal! Thanks for hosting!” 

Hal staggered under the speed fueled hug, patting Barry on the back. Behind him, Dinah had tuned the radio to something party-like and obscene. The base thudded through the apartment walls, making Hal’s fillings ache. 

“Wasn’t my idea,” he mumbled as Barry dropped a bottle of rum on the counter. “Hey, I thought it was just a beer night—“

“It’s okay, right?” Barry said, turning puppy eyes on him in a flash. “You don’t have to do any shots, I just figured, you know, tomorrow’s Sunday and maybe some folks would wanna—“

Arthur walked through the doorway with a bottle of tequila, grinning at Ollie. They high-fived loudly. Hal groaned. 

“Not you too.” 

“Let’s have fun,” Arthur said, prying open the top of the bottle. “To the Justice League!” he said, raising the tequila high. Dinah and Barry cheered. 

“My ass!” Oliver said, raising his glass and joining the toast. Arthur snaked his arm around Ollies, trading his beer for the tequila in a surprisingly well-executed linked-arm shot.They drank together, Arthur longer than Oliver, until Oliver’s beer was gone.

The billionaire slapped Arthur on the back and roared. 

“YES!” he said, face turning red. “That's what I’m TALKING ABOUT!”

Hal ducked his gaze, grabbing his orange crush from the shelf he’d left it on. He wondered how sober he could manage to stay through all of this. Knowing the longing he felt for a beer was exactly what he didn’t need right now, he crushed the soda can in his hand, flicking a glance at the keg.

Across the room, Dinah seemed to have followed his train of thought. With a smile, she produced two cans of root beer from her jacket pockets. With an assuredness that was pure _Dinah Lance, PsyDoc,_ she slid one can into a Miller lite can koozie, cracking it open with a wink. 

Hal felt his anxiety plummet, relief coursing through him. He grabbed the can, koozie and all, and sent Dinah a grateful nod. With a wink, she was back on the dance floor, none of the other guests the wiser. Hal moved the other can into the fridge, hiding it behind his three-week old eggs. 

The buzzer rang, jarring him from his thoughts. He sent Oliver a _look,_ getting a trademarked shrug in return. 

“How many people is ‘ _just a couple friends’_?” Hal asked. The billionaire shrugged. 

“Um.” 

“I need to put on pants.”

* * *

Hal opened his front door to what looked like the entirety of Batman’s sidekicks, still covered in blood and dirt from the battle, and immediately gave up any hope of this being a ‘small’ get together. 

Red Hood pushed past him, throwing his hands up. 

“ _Party!_ ”

Nightwing sent Hal a pained look, shrugging as he ducked into the apartment. Next to him, Red Robin had a bottle of chocolate liqueur vodka hugged tightly to his chest. Robin was eyeing it hungrily, and _Jesus,_ were any of these kids even old enough to drink? 

“Hood, nice to see you, buddy,” Oliver said, shaking Red Hood’s hand. He handed him a shot glass, which the man took without a second glance. “Whoa, you’re ready to party.”

“Yup,” Red Hood said, and moved on to speak with Barry. Nightwing grimaced, declining the offered shot from Oliver. 

“I’m DD.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Red Hood shouted from across the room. “We took a zeta here!”

Red Robin tapped Hal on the arm, pulling him away from the shouting. 

“Do you have any shot glasses I could put this in?” he asked politely. The kid sounded exhausted. 

“Sorry,” Hal said, fumbling for words. “I don’t usually, uh, drink. I have…” he turned and opened one of his cabinets, producing a small glass, “...juice glasses?”

“Works for me,” Red Robin said, and poured the vodka halfway up the glass. With a look of disgust, he threw the whole thing back, swallowing. Hal watched in amazement as he pounded on his chest, warding off a cough. “Ugh. Do you have any milk?”

He pointed wordlessly at the fridge. Red Robin poured himself another shot, threw it back, then snagged the milk out of the fridge. Before Hal could warn him, he poured it in the glass and threw that back too. 

“Yugh,” he said, frowning at Hal. “Do you know your milk is expired?”

“...now I do.”

* * *

Oliver had set up court on his couch, and as such, the JL members present gathered in clumps around him, conversations spanning the length of Hal’s entire apartment. 

Robin was the sole outlier, camped next to the keg and looking, as Hal’s momma would say, _mighty suspicious._ Hal, in his infinite wisdom, decided an awkward intervention now was much better than the shovel talk Batman would give him later. 

“Hey, kid,” he said, sidling up with his koozied-soda. “How’s it hanging?”

“Fine,” Robin said, curt. “I am fine.”

Hal nodded. 

“...and...yourself?” 

“Fine.”

“Excellent.”

Hal nodded again, lapsing into silence by reflex. It seemed to build a rapport with the smaller Robin, who softened by a degree. 

“Jordan.”

“Yes?”

“I wish to taste the beer.”

 _Batman’s going to fucking kill me._ “You don’t wanna try beer, buddy.”

“I’m curious about its flavor profile and intoxicating effects.”

Hal put a hand to his temple, rubbing just a tad too hard. “It tastes like shit, and the only way you get drunk off it is if you have too much.”

Robin blinked, considering this. “I still wish to try it.”

“Buddy, if Batman says it’s okay, you can do a keg stand for all I care.”

“I’ve read about those,” Robin interjected, looking excited. “It’s an acrobatic trick, yes? I have good balance--”

“You’re not doing an underaged keg stand in my apartment without a signed affidavit saying Batman approves,” Hal said. “Sorry, kid.” 

“Queen would let me.”

“I’m sure he would.”

Robin got up with a huff, walking across the room to join Red Robin near the island. Hal dug at the headache brewing behind his left eye, wondering how long it would take his elderly neighbors to the west to call the cops on him. 

_Hopefully soon._

* * *

Kon joined the party a half hour later, smoking an actual cigarette which Hal had him put out, reluctantly, in the sink, and armed with three bottles of gin. He pouted until he saw Red Hood, and lit up when he saw the tequila bottle. 

“Didn’t think you had it in you,” he said to Hal, grinning. “Hey, you think Ollie brought coke?”

Hal stared at him, bug-eyed. Kon shifted the gin bottles to one arm, tilting his head.

“Nah, you’re right, that’s more of a Friday night thing.”

Before he could process that, there was another knock at the door. Hal let a confused-looking J’onn in, followed by Wally. 

“Hey!” Wally said, then dashed for the couch. J’onn nodded at Hal. 

“Thank you for accepting us into your domicile,” the alien said, “It was very gracious.”

One of the batkids -- Spoiler? Was that her name?-- was hanging from the moulding in his living room. Hal cringed. 

“No problem.”

Six feet away, Kon and Red Hood were caught in a deep discussion about whether Kon could actually get drunk (the answer was sometimes, apparently). Spoiler was finally off the moulding, and had graduated to encouraging Nightwing to take a body shot. Oliver was watching all of it with rapt attention, a true king among his drunken people. 

“Fun, right?” 

Hal turned to see Dinah perched next to him on the kitchen island, a _Modelo_ of mysterious origin in one hand. 

“It’s a little overwhelming,” he agreed, tapping his soda can against her bottle. Dinah smiled, swinging her legs. 

“You ever need to tap out, just let me know. I’ll cover for you.”

Hal smiled. “Thanks, Dinah.”

The door buzzer rang again. He groaned, pushing off from the counter. 

“Did you invite the whole Justice League?”

Dinah grinned, taking a swig from her bottle. 

“Just the cool ones.”

* * *

Hal had the unique and terrifying experience of turning away the entirety of Young Justice from his semi-official house party, despite their cries and threats. 

“You’re _Young Justice,_ ” he said, finally throwing his hands up. “‘ _Y_ _oung’_ is in the goddamned name. As in _too young to get drunk at a houseparty.”_

“But we brought booze,” one of the aliens (god, Hal couldn’t keep their names straight) said, mournfully. “It was bring your own bottle, and we brought our own bottle.”

“Hey, is that Young Justice?” he heard Oliver call from the living room. Hal immediately shut the door in their faces, reinforcing the lock with a construct. 

“Nope!” Hal said, turning around, his ring hidden behind his back. “Just some losers from another floor.”

Oliver stumbled slightly, weaving toward the door. “Well, why don’t you let them--”

“Oh wow!” Hal said, pointing at the window. “Is that Superman?”

The archer stopped in his tracks, spinning around. 

“He really came?!”

* * *

Two hours later, and Hal found himself still painfully sober, sitting on the couch between a drunken Oliver, splayed across Dinah’s lap, and an equally drunk Arthur, who challenged anyone within earshot to an arm wrestling match. 

The batkids, wise as they were, chose to play an insular game of bloody knuckles on the floor between them. Or, at least, it looked like bloody knuckles. It also involved knives, somehow, but Hal figured they weren’t dumb enough to get cut that bad. 

The music was still pumping, but the mood of the party had leveled out somewhat. Everyone was somewhat drunk, except Kon, Hal, and a dismayed looking Robin. 

“Alright,” Oliver said, waving a hand around the room. “I have a game.”

“Sure,” Red Robin said, looking up from his game. “Is it truth or dare? Because B--Batman said we couldn’t play that anymore.”

“Nah, it’s ‘fuck, marry or kill,’” Oliver corrected, cheerful. “Big Three edition. Dinah, you’re first.”

“Big Three edition?” Red Hood clarified, tilting his head. 

“Yeah, the lame ones losing out on this _awesome_ party,” Oliver said, his grin morphing into a frown. “They never come when I invite them.”

Hal snorted, amused despite himself. “Nothing personal, right Ollie?”

“I’m sure it’s not,” the billionaire agreed, flinging his hand back around. It landed at a point in front of Dinah. “Dinah. Show us the money.”

Dinah thought hard for a second. “Fuck, marry, or kill between Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s impossible.” she said. “They’re all good choices.”

“ _Lies,_ ” Oliver said. “Batman is definitely the most fuckable. Diana’s wife material. Superman can take one for the team.”

“You would kill Superman?” Dinah asked, horrified. 

“To get a little hot and heavy with Batman? Sure.”

Across the room, the Robins and co had frozen in their game of bloody knuckles. 

“I’d fuck Superman,” Arthur announced, “Not often I find someone bigger than me. You know?”

Hal cringed, not needing that information in his life. “Uh huh.”

“Superman’s boring in bed,” Kon said from the window sill, where he was perched. He was periodically smoking out of Hal’s screen which, fine, good compromise. “Pure vanilla. We fuck Wonder Woman in this household or nothing at all, alright?”

“Superman’s hot, don’t get me wrong,” Red Hood said, interjecting. “But isn’t it kind of weird talking about your Dad like that?”

“Why?” Kon said, taking a drag from his cigarette. “I’m gonna look like that one day.”

Everyone in the room seemed to agree on this. 

“Batman’s handy with a toolbelt,” Dinah added, looking thoughtful. “I bet he’s good with his hands, too.”

Ollie shifted away from his wife, looking disgusted. “Ew.”

“What, it was okay when you fantasized about him, but not me?” Dinah asked. “Where’s your feminism, Ollie?”

“I left it in the car.”

Dinah flicked his ear. “Barry, you’ve been quiet.”

Barry immediately turned red, ducking behind the couch.

“I uh, don’t have an opinion.”

“Of course you do,” Ollie said. “Who’s the most fuckable? Out with it.”

“I can’t...I can’t choose,” Barry said, mumbling into the couch cushion. “They’re our...they’re our _bosses_.”

Red Robin took another shot of the vodka he’d brought, cracking his neck. “I’d fuck Superman.”

“Noted,” Red Hood said. It sounded like he was grinning. Nightwing shot a horrified look at the door. “Wonder Woman could crush my head with her thighs, so she’s got my vote.”

“Yes, but who’s _objectively_ the most fuckable?” Ollie queried. “It’s Batman, hands down.”

A chorus of boos filled the room. 

“Why are you booing me? I’m right!”

* * *

“Alright,” Red Hood said, pointing at the wall. “Let’s get all our arguments on the table, alright?”

Hal watched in distant fascination as he produced a vial of ink from his belt, quickly outlining three columns on Hal’s wallpaper. The letters _WW, SM, BM_ were quickly filled in. 

“Now,” Red Hood said, “Time for objective truths, and objective truths only. Stuff goes in the column only if we all agree on it, okay?”

“Okay,” Ollie said, speaking for the group. “I’ll go first. Batman has a phat ass.”

Red Hood looked around the room, which had fallen silent, waiting for disagreement. 

“Okay,” he said finally, writing _Batman = thick_ in sloppy ink. “What’s next?”

“Superman has super strength. So he could throw me against a wall,” Red Robin said. 

“If he wasn’t so vanilla, yeah,” Kon interjected. He waved his cigarette. “He would never use it on someone he cared about.”

“I heard he threw Batman against a wall once during one of their fights,” Dinah said. 

“Duh, he doesn’t care about Batman,” Oliver rebutted. “He threw him at that warhead last month, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Superman has really nice eyes,” Barry said, looking sheepish. Red Hood wrote _eyes_ under Superman’s column, grunting. 

“Nightwing?” 

Nightwing’s head jerked up, an expression of horror on his face. 

“I...uh…”

“I caught him staring at Wonder Woman’s boobs once,” Spoiler said, holding a busted set of knuckles up. “He wants to be suffocated by them, trust me.”

Red Hood wrote _motorboat death_ under Wonder Woman’s comments despite Nightwing’s protests. Wally let out a giggle. 

“I don’t know, I think Batman’s still the sexiest,” Dinah said, looking dreamy. “Everyone starts training with a wet dream about him.”

Hal looked around the room, spotting a horrifying number of guilty, albeit thoughtful, looks. 

“I didn’t,” he said. All eyes instantly turned to him, and he froze. “I didn’t have one.”

Dinah tilted her head. “Not even that voice?”

“What?”

J’onn frowned, then opened his mouth. A perfect replica of Batman’s growl followed. 

“ _You think I’m dangerous. I am,”_ J’onn mimicked, but it was like Batman was _right_ there, the tones vibrating through his bones, “ _But I’m so much more. I’ll turn over every stone in this city to get to you. I won’t stop until you’re--”_

“Enough!” Oliver cried, cheeks pink. “J’onn, Jesus. Where the hell did you hear that?”

“One of Batman’s recent stakeouts,” the alien said, thankfully in his normal voice. “He was apprehending a criminal.”

Hal glanced around the room, looking anywhere but his pants. Everyone, save the Robins, seemed flushed. 

_Voice,_ Red Hood wrote out under the Batman column. Dinah smirked. 

“What else for Superman?” he asked, turning around. 

“His dick is _huge_ ,” Kon said, out of the blue. 

The room went silent. 

“I’m not even going to ask how you know that,” Red Hood muttered, scrawling _hung_ under Superman’s name. “Anything else?”

“He’s got really nice manners,” Wally said, nodding. “If I was a girl, that would definitely be attractive to me.”

“Did we write ‘Diana’s thighs’ down yet?” Arthur asked, looking concerned. “I’m not changing my choice, but that seems like a crucial detail to overlook.”

Red Hood wrote it down, obliging. 

“Hal, anything to add?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” Oliver asked. 

“Because I don’t wanna sleep with them.”

“That’s not the point,” Oliver said, “It’s about who’s objectively fuckable.”

Hal shrugged. “Not my business.”

Red Hood considered the room, mulling over something. 

“Alright, who’s had sex with one of the Big Three?”

Amazingly, a few hands went up. 

“How many of them were with Superman?”

All the hands went down. 

“Wonder Woman?”

The hands stayed down. 

“Batman?”

The hands went back up. Red Hood nodded, placing a few check marks in Batman’s column. 

“Objective facts plus empirical research equals...our winner,” he said, tapping on the third column. “Y’all are lame. I can’t believe no one’s slept with Superman or Wonder Woman.”

“I’m sure Batman has,” Dinah said softly into her drink. The room’s attention swung back to her, heads turning. “What?”

“Batman has?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did,” Oliver said. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying, darling?”

“It was just a guess,” she protested. “I don’t know anything!”

“That’s hot,” Arthur said, leaning back into the couch. J’onn nodded his approval. “Really fucking hot.”

“This just got weird,” Nightwing said, pushing Robin and Red Robin toward the door. “Bye! Let’s never talk about this again!”

“Coward!” Red Hood called after him. 

“So,” Oliver said, somewhat calmed down. “How do you think they arranged themselves?”

Dinah cocked an eyebrow. 

“Well, since Superman is taller--”

Hal put his head in his hands.

* * *

“Bruce.”

He didn’t look up from the scope, but the lack of footsteps on the roof’s gravel was more than clue enough. 

“Clark,” he said, in greeting. “Where’s Diana?”

“On her w--”

“Here I am!” Diana said, throwing the roof access hatch open. She joined Clark at the edge of the roof. “What did I miss?” 

Bruce grimaced, holding out an earpod. She took it with a curious look, pressing it to her ear. He replayed the recording he’d made, fastforwarding through the beginning. 

_“Yes, but who’s objectively the most fuckable?” Ollie said, voice rising. “It’s Batman, hands down.”_

_A chorus of boos filled the room._

_“Why are you booing me? I’m right!”_

The recording continued. Clark listened on from behind Diana, his placid expression disappearing behind a mask of pure embarrassment. 

“Kon _said that_?” he asked halfway through the recording, his face turning bright red. Bruce nodded, holding up a gloved finger. 

“Wait. It gets better.”

_“I don’t know, I think Batman’s still the sexiest,” Dinah’s voice said. “Everyone starts training with a wet dream about him.”_

_“I didn’t,”_ That was Hal. _“I didn’t have one.”_

_“Not even that voice?”_

_“What?”_

A pause, and Bruce’s own voice followed: 

_“You think I’m dangerous. I am,” there was a pause, and some nervous laughs. “But I’m so much more. I’ll turn over every stone in this city to get to you. I won’t stop until you’re--”_

Diana’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a soft ‘o’. 

“Bruce, he did you perfectly.” she said, wowed. Clark shook his head, looking anywhere but at him. 

“The rest is the same,” he told the other man, nodding at the scope. “Except the part where they talk about our threesome. That gets a little spicy.”

His words, heavily laden with sarcasm, still make Clark jump. 

“Our _what--_ ”

“They do make it sound appealing,” Diana said, earbud still pressed to her ear. “They’re very appreciative of your height difference.”

Clark looked directly at Bruce. 

“Turn it _off_.”

He smirked. “Embarrassed?”

Clark made a wordless sound of anguish, putting his head in his hands. “ _Yes."_

Diana dropped the earbud, turning back from the ledge. 

“We should try sex,” she said excitedly. “Yes?”

“ _Diana_.” Clark was almost purple.

“It would be a good bonding experience,” the Amazonian protested. “It is common before battle on Themyscira.” 

All Clark could manage was a choked sound. Bruce took pity on him and put away the earbud, shutting off the recorder. 

“Another time,” he told Diana, hiding a grin. 

the end

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Art] there but for the grace of god](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29256546) by [Sazzysavvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sazzysavvy/pseuds/Sazzysavvy)




End file.
